|
Leaves of Grass (1867)
contents
| previous
| next
POEMS OF JOY.
1
| 1 O TO make the most jubilant poems! |
O full of music! Full of manhood, womanhood, in-
fancy!
|
O full of common employments! Full of grain and
trees.
|
2 O for the voices of animals! O for the swiftness
and balance of fishes!
|
| O for the dropping of rain-drops in a poem! |
| O for the sunshine, and motion of waves in a poem. |
3 O to be on the sea! the wind, the wide waters
around;
|
| O to sail in a ship under full sail at sea. |
4 O the joy of my spirit! It is uncaged! It darts
like lightning!
|
It is not enough to have this globe, or a certain time
—I will have thousands of globes, and all time.
|
2
To hear the hiss of steam—the merry shriek—the
steam-whistle—the laughing locomotive!
|
To push with resistless way, and speed off in the dis-
tance.
|
View Page 272
|
| 6 O the horseman's and horsewoman's joys! |
The saddle—the gallop—the pressure upon the seat
—the cool gurgling by the ears and hair.
|
3
| I hear the alarm at dead of night, |
| I hear bells—shouts!—I pass the crowd—I run! |
| The sight of the flames maddens me with pleasure. |
8 O the joy of the strong-brawn'd fighter, towering
in the arena, in perfect condition, conscious of
power, thirsting to meet his opponent.
|
9 O the joy of that vast elemental sympathy which
only the human Soul is capable of generating
and emitting in steady and limitless floods.
|
4
The watching—the endurance—the precious love—
the anguish—the patiently yielded life.
|
| 11 O the joy of increase, growth, recuperation, |
The joy of soothing and pacifying—the joy of con-
cord and harmony.
|
| 12 O to go back to the place where I was born! |
| To hear the birds sing once more! |
To ramble about the house and barn, and over the
fields, once more,
|
And through the orchard and along the old lanes
once more.
|
5
O the presence of women! (I swear there is nothing
more exquisite than the presence of women;)
|
View Page 273
|
O for the girl, my mate! O for the happiness with
my mate!
|
O the young man as I pass! O I am sick after
the friendship of him who, I fear, is indifferent
to me.
|
| 14 O the streets of cities! |
The flitting faces—the expressions, eyes, feet, cos-
tumes! O I cannot tell how welcome they are
to me;
|
O, of the men—of women toward me as I pass—The
memory of only one look—the boy lingering
and waiting.
|
6
15 O to have been brought up on bays, lagoons, creeks
or along the coast!
|
| O to continue and be employ'd there all my life! |
O the briny and damp smell—the shore—the salt
weeds exposed at low water,
|
The work of fishermen—the work of the eel-fisher
and clam-fisher.
|
I come with my clam-rake and spade! I come with
my eel-spear;
|
Is the tide out? I join the group of clam-diggers on
the flats,
|
I laugh and work with them—I joke at my work, like
a mettlesome young man.
|
17 In winter I take my eel-basket and eel-spear and
travel out on foot on the ice—I have a small
axe to cut holes in the ice;
|
Behold me, well-clothed, going gaily, or returning in
the afternoon—my brood of tough boys accom-
panying me,
|
View Page 274
|
My brood of grown and part-grown boys, who love
to be with no one else so well as they love to
be with me,
|
By day to work with me, and by night to sleep with
me.
|
18 Or, another time, in warm weather, out in a boat,
to lift the lobster-pots, where they are sunk
with heavy stones, (I know the buoys;)
|
O the sweetness of the Fifth-month morning upon
the water, as I row, just before sunrise, toward
the buoys;
|
I pull the wicker pots up slantingly—the dark green
lobsters are desperate with their claws, as I
take them out—I insert wooden pegs in the
joints of their pincers,
|
I go to all the places, one after another, and then row
back to the shore,
|
There, in a huge kettle of boiling water, the lobsters
shall be boil'd till their color becomes scarlet.
|
| 19 Or, another time, mackerel-taking, |
Voracious, mad for the hook, near the surface, they
seem to fill the water for miles;
|
Or, another time, fishing for rock-fish in Chesapeake
Bay—I one of the brown-faced crew;
|
Or, another time, trailing for blue-fish off Paumanok,
I stand with braced body,
|
My left foot is on the gunwale—my right arm throws
the coils of slender rope,
|
In sight around me the quick veering and darting of
fifty skiffs, my companions.
|
7
| 20 O boating on the rivers! |
The voyage down the Niagara, (the St. Lawrence,)—
the superb scenery—the steamers,
|
View Page 275
|
The ships sailing—the Thousand Islands—the occa-
sional timber-raft, and the raftsmen with long-
reaching sweep-oars,
|
The little huts on the rafts, and the stream of smoke
when they cook supper at evening.
|
| 21 O something pernicious and dread! |
| Something far away from a puny and pious life! |
| Something unproved! Something in a trance! |
Something escaped from the anchorage, and driving
free.
|
| 22 O to work in mines, or forging iron! |
Foundry casting—the foundry itself—the rude high
roof—the ample and shadow'd space,
|
| The furnace—the hot liquid pour'd out and running. |
8
| 23 O the joys of the soldier! |
To feel the presence of a brave general! to feel his
sympathy!
|
To behold his calmness! to be warm'd in the rays of
his smile!
|
To go to battle! to hear the bugles play, and the
drums beat!
|
To hear the crash of artillery! to see the glittering of
the bayonets and musket-barrels in the sun!
|
| To see men fall and die and not complain! |
| To taste the savage taste of blood! to be so devilish! |
| To gloat so over the wounds and deaths of the enemy. |
9
24 O the whaleman's joys! O I cruise my old cruise
again!
|
I feel the ship's motion under me—I feel the Atlan-
tic breezes fanning me,
|
I hear the cry again sent down from the mast-head,
There she blows,
|
View Page 276
|
Again I spring up the rigging, to look with the rest—
We see—we descend, wild with excitement,
|
I leap in the lower'd boat—We row toward our prey,
where he lies,
|
We approach, stealthy and silent—I see the moun-
tainous mass, lethargic, basking,
|
I see the harpooner standing up—I see the weapon
dart from his vigorous arm;
|
O swift, again, now, far out in the ocean, the wounded
whale, settling, running to windward, tows me,
|
| Again I see him rise to breathe—We row close again, |
I see a lance driven through his side, press'd deep,
turn'd in the wound,
|
Again we back off—I see him settle again—the life is
leaving him fast,
|
As he rises, he spouts blood—I see him swim in circles
narrower and narrower, swiftly cutting the
water—I see him die,
|
He gives one convulsive leap in the centre of the cir-
cle, and then falls flat and still in the bloody
foam.
|
10
| 25 O the old manhood of me, my joy! |
My children and grand-children—my white hair and
beard,
|
My largeness, calmness, majesty, out of the long
stretch of my life.
|
| 26 O the ripen'd joy of womanhood! |
| O perfect happiness at last! |
I am more than eighty years of age—my hair, too, is
pure white—I am the most venerable mother;
|
How clear is my mind! how all people draw nigh to
me!
|
What attractions are these, beyond any before? what
bloom, more than the bloom of youth?
|
What beauty is this that descends upon me, and rises
out of me?
|
View Page 277
|
27 O the joy of my soul leaning poised on itself—re-
ceiving identity through materials, and loving
them—observing characters, and absorbing
them;
|
O my soul, vibrated back to me, from them—from
facts, sight, hearing, touch, my phrenology,
reason, articulation, comparison, memory, and
the like;
|
O the real life of my senses and flesh, transcending
my senses and flesh;
|
O my body, done with materials—my sight, done with
my material eyes;
|
O what is proved to me this day, beyond cavil, that it
is not my material eyes which finally see,
|
Nor my material body which finally loves, walks,
laughs, shouts, embraces, procreates.
|
11
Ohioan's, Illinoisian's, Wisconsinese', Kanadian's, Io-
wan's, Kansian's, Missourian's, Oregonese' joys,
|
| To rise at peep of day, and pass forth nimbly to work, |
| To plow land in the fall for winter-sown crops, |
| To plough land in the spring for maize, |
To train orchards—to graft the trees—to gather ap-
ples in the fall.
|
| 29 O the pleasure with trees! |
The orchard—the forest—the oak, cedar, pine, pekan-
tree,
|
The honey-locust, black-walnut, cottonwood, and mag-
nolia.
|
12
O the beautiful touch of Death, soothing and be-
numbing a few moments, for reasons;
|
View Page 278
|
O that of myself, discharging my excrementitious
body, to be burn'd, or render'd to powder, or
buried,
|
| My real body doubtless left to me for other spheres, |
My voided body, nothing more to me, returning to
the purifications, further offices, eternal uses of
the earth.
|
13
31 O to bathe in the swimming-bath, or in a good
place along shore!
|
To splash the water! to walk ankle-deep—to race
naked along the shore.
|
| The plenteousness of all—that there are no bounds; |
To emerge, and be of the sky—of the sun and moon,
and the flying clouds, as one with them.
|
14
| 33 O, while I live, to be the ruler of life—not a slave, |
| To meet life as a powerful conquerer, |
No fumes—no ennui—no more complaints or scornful
criticisms.
|
| 34 O me repellent and ugly! |
To these proud laws of the air, the water, and the
ground, proving my interior Soul impregnable,
And nothing exterior shall ever take command of me.
|
| 35 O to attract by more than attraction! |
How it is I know not—yet behold! the something
which obeys none of the rest,
|
It is offensive, never defensive—yet how magnetic it
draws.
|
15
| 36 O the joy of suffering! |
To struggle against great odds! to meet enemies un-
daunted!
|
View Page 279
|
To be entirely alone with them! to find how much one
can stand!
|
To look strife, torture, prison, popular odium, death,
face to face!
|
To mount the scaffold! to advance to the muzzles of
guns with perfect nonchalance!
|
| 37 O the gleesome saunter over fields and hill-sides! |
The leaves and flowers of the commonest weeds—the
moist fresh stillness of the woods,
|
The exquisite smell of the earth at day-break, and all
through the forenoon.
|
| 38 O love-branches! love-root! love-apples! |
| O chaste and electric torrents! O mad-sweet drops. |
To inflate the chest—to roll the thunder of the voice
out from the ribs and throat,
|
To make the people rage, weep, hate, desire, with
yourself,
|
To lead America—to quell America with a great
tongue.
|
| 40 O the joy of a manly self-hood! |
Personality—to be servile to none—to defer to none
—not to any tyrant, known or unknown,
|
To walk with erect carriage, a step springy and
elastic,
|
| To look with calm gaze, or with a flashing eye, |
To speak with a full and sonorous voice, out of a
broad chest,
|
To confront with your personality all the other per-
sonalities of the earth.
|
| 41 O to have my life henceforth my poem of joys! |
To dance, clap hands, exult, shout, skip, leap, roll on,
float on,
|
| An athlete—full of rich words—full of joys. |
contents
| previous
| next
|
| |
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)